Story of Or
To pose nakedness is
To refute it. A pose
Is a clothes. Like
Stanzaic arrangements of
The word which should
Ideally, be in pain against
Its w and its d. No slack
Is why such heaves of or
To denude itself could
Make us exude gold, yet when
Was that ever opposite enough
What scream or epigram
This sperm has come
To measure our mouths for.
Note: For 'or' to free itself from 'word,' it must strain ('heave') against the 'w' and the 'd' that enclose it. If, via this strenuous (perhaps squeamish) process, the meaning of 'or' is transmuted from the English into the French as a sort of homage to the pseudonymous author of 'Story of O' (Histoire d'O), then, alchemically speaking, (or so an Aurealist might suggest) it will have risen from the pose of its measures to or-emerge as an else-gasm.
poem by Bill Knott
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Related quotes
Vogue a Pose
Assimilate all of your excessive moves.
Co-ordinate every accessory you choose.
Separate each pose,
To develop into downloaded grooves.
And vogue a pose you could carry over...
Like a model throttled up,
In a hold held bold.
And vogue a pose,
You could carry over...
For a paparazzi set,
To make you that 'IT' yet!
And vogue a pose,
You could carry over...
Either on the internet.
Or something you could even text.
And vogue a pose,
You could carry over...
For a paparazzi set,
To make you that 'IT' yet!
Assimilate all of your excessive moves.
Co-ordinate every accessory you choose.
Separate each pose,
To develop into downloaded grooves.
And vogue a pose you could carry over...
Like a model throttled up,
In a hold held bold.
And vogue a pose,
You could carry over...
Either on the internet.
Or something you could even text.
And vogue a pose,
You could carry over...
For a paparazzi set,
To make you that 'IT' yet!
And vogue a pose,
You could carry over...
Either on the internet.
Or something you could even text.
And vogue a pose,
You could carry over...
Either on the internet.
Or something you could even text.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The face reveals
In a revealing or provocative pose
It's easy for a woman to catch men's eyes.
In a concealing pose if one does it,
It's due to her face, which reveals the rest.
28.04.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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And What Is A Photo
And what is photo
The photographer can tell you.
And what he told
Is to conform the pose.
And the pose if neglected
Spoiled you and the picture.
And your life is in danger
O Photographer please guide
You are my master.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Hint From Voiture
Let Sol his annual journeys run,
And when the radiant task is done,
Confess, through all the globe, 'twou'd pose him,
To match the charms that Celia shows him.
And should he boast he once had seen
As just a form, as bright a mien,
Yet must it still for ever pose him
To match - what Celia never shows him.
poem by William Shenstone
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The Pose
He looked at the painting,
his lover in the nude.
And as he stared
it always changed his mood.
Young and frail
but still a delight.
He looked at the painting
on every night.
He remembered the pose
as if yesterday,
provocative it was,
her eyes far away.
Were they remembering
the brush strokes used
or the feel of his hand
and how they fused
together as one
when the pose was over.
Now all that was left
was the painting,
not the lover.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Poem Life
what is...
a poem...?
some word
speaking...
some word
crying...
some word
trying...
some word
hitting...
some word
danching...
some word
loving...
some word
colling...
some word
lifing...
some word
loughing...
all the words
are poem...
feel free
your heart free..
love free
to write+ speak...
with freee...
making a poem
life your style...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Purr-Pose
My path is not to be found, supposed by the pose, the rope to rose, what is my purr-pose - War by death, taken to the clouds, can anyone be so daft-war-craft - My entire life, mild by hot, death has been breathing down my neck - Without cheating a cheat, i am crafted by what has been kept, behind, the door i left open - I was swallowed, downward into the draft - Tomorrow will come, tomorrow will go - So will the summer, lazier to be late, as the snow - Take, even if she fakes, your score
poem by Unic Cjonr
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Halloween in the Deep Night
Festival in the deep night
Parade of colours and masks
Time to dwell in darkness
And what it can bring to life.
It is time in the year when
People pose in disguise,
playing the role of the good
the bad, the sinners and saints.
Let us celebrate this night
of Halloween in fear and delight
Let us pose in disguise and see
Ourselves behind our own masks.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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The Process
Leave them alone!
You pose a threat,
To their process.
'Huh?
Their process?
What Process?
Their process doesn't exist! '
Sssshhh...
Quietly.
That's why you must leave them alone.
They are not aware of it.
And you...
Trying to get them to make some sense,
Is upsetting.
Just go along with it.
'Go along with what? '
The 'process'.
'But it doesn't exist.'
You know it and I know it.
Why can't you just leave it alone...
And let them pretend?
Why is it so important to you,
That they become aware and conscious?
Why?
There are several other charities,
To which you can donate your time and efforts.
In this case...
These minds have already been wasted.
Trust me.
Why do you think I whisper to you?
There are only a few of us left with the power to think.
Trust me?
Why do you think I whisper to you?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Lament Of Loneliness...
Course, it's no good telling you...
I mean, you don't care... You don't really, really care...
You're the busy one, the achiever...
The so-called 'successful' one...
I'm just here ter make up the numbers!
Sort of in the way every now and then...
Sort of here, but invisible...
Sort of 'Oh! Hello! ' then 'Goodbye! ' No, you can't kid me!
I've seen it all before! I know when I'm being tolerated...
Grudgingly accepted, that's what I am!
Sort of here, but nobody cares...
Yeah, I'm still here, having me little moan...
Not that folks fret about what I want, or need or even dream about...
Nope, I'm the one 'On Me Todd', just me and God, that's all...
And He doesn't talk ter me, either!
I s'pose that's fer the best, nowadays!
They'd probably lock me up if He spoke ter me
And I was foolish enough ter tell anyone!
Yeah, they'd lock me up... and yet... I'm already a prisoner...
A prisoner of loneliness...
poem by Denis Martindale
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From my sketch files I'll find a pose that shows the emotion behind a particular character's story.
quote by Frank Bruno
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two cows deconstruct Derrida
These two cows were ruminating
and one says, I was listening
to the milkmaid’s transistor
and this French philosopher
was explaining that there’s
no English translation of the French word
‘betise’ except ‘stupidity’ but
‘stupidity’ only refers to man
where the French ‘betise’ means
to behave like an animal…
and the other cow says
well what’s wrong with that
and the first cow says
well his point is, English cows
can’t be stupid; only man
can be stupid..
and the other cow says
well that’s a relief then
so does that mean that French cows
can be stupid
and the first cow says
no because they don’t have a word for it
in French
so the other cow says
so then is it better to be
an English cow
that can’t be stupid
or a French cow
that can’t be called stupid
and the first cow says
who cares, I’ve always said
the French ruminate too much
and then talk bullshit…
and the other cow says
I’m glad I’m a Jersey
what about that French milkmaid
I call sexyhands but
the farmer sometimes calls
a silly cow I wonder what
Derrida would say about that
poem by Michael Shepherd
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A Regal Pose
One lioness stood out a mile
And thus in stature grows,
As though she had a sense of style,
Possessed a regal pose...
Had she observed some ancient rules
To win such fervent stares?
Did she have eyes like limpid pools
To catch some in her snares?
One lioness transcended all
And others knew their place,
She held the lions in her thrall
Through dignity and grace...
Her hunting skills unbeaten here,
She shifted moods to suit
And chief of all, she knew no fear,
Not foolish, just astute...
One lioness still in her prime,
A prize if courted well,
A noble queen, if given time,
Yet who there could foretell?
A regal pose if seen by Man
Could target her one day,
To steal from her that noble plan
To live her life her way...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'A Regal Pose'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Every Day
Every day she sat
opposite you on
the bus looking
beyond you not
at you or turning
her head to some
other view than you
and she would mouth
words silently as if
in some secret prayer
and maybe her god
was invisibly sitting
there and whoever
sat next to her and
that varied day to day
would seem of some
different breed or class
having not her pose or
looks or beauty having
maybe some different
dream or else none at
all unlike she who sits
every day not seeing you
but always looking away.
poem by Terry Collett
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The Virgin Considered As A Picture
Her unawed face, whose pose so long assumed
Is touched with what reality we feel,
Bends to itself and, to itself resumed,
Restores a tender fiction to the real.
And in her artful posture movement lies
Whose timeless motion flesh must so conceal;
Yet what her pose conceals we might surmise
And might pretend to gather from her eyes
The final motion flesh gives up to art.
But slowly, if we watch her long enough,
The nerves grow subtler, and she moves apart
Into a space too dim with time and blood
For our set eyes to follow true enough,
Or nerves to guess about her, if they would.
poem by Edgar Bowers
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What one does in the studio is to pose a series of problems to oneself. I've got to look for some deeper meaning, for some reason for this thing to be in the world. There's enough stuff in the world.
quote by Anish Kapoor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inscription from Free Verse Free - 1548
Read rare response in script alliteration
Ease of flow's quintessence with insight
Sharing sows, - no picayune tune blight,
Or spilt ink despite modernization,
Nor undecided prose pose-pour oration.
As mannequins, lines anorexic quite
Try vers libre leaf on verse tree's bright delight
Each unaware in French 'vers' true translation
Shows 'stripped' 'line' 'worms' 'to', 'at', 'round' 'verse' narration.
Concentrate as resonate wor[l]ds light
Resplendent in their story's glory's flight,
Ideas spin through this contest dedication.
Pictures metaphorical employ
Threads, word bank rich, in stitches this enjoy.
(2 January 2007)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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But you know in the contemporary art world, you pose a very interesting conundrum. All sorts of people collect very contemporary art, yet when it comes to the music which is analogous to that sort of art, they are not interested, or perhaps even hostile.
quote by Michael Tilson Thomas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cowboy and Dad
cowboy films
they were dad's favourite
and he did want me
to be a cowboy
each time giving
me that smart pose
of john wayne
and speaking in his tongue
dad's golden years
we spent quite a lot
of time in the theatres
watching nothing
but cowboy movies
those movies with
plenty of gunshots
bravemen and cowards
a lost child
and his gun toting dad
i was a mere three foot tall
but dad did want me
to be a cowboy even then
ever enthusiastic in
showing me
that smart pose
with his leather hat
that bent upwards
tipped
at an angle
i tried them all
gun, imagined horse,
and that round little black patch
with a rubber strip
that i worn over an eye
crying in my prebuscent voice
'bang! bang! bang! '
our seating room
the battle field
a giant and a little cowboys
acting out the scenes
in the cowboy movies
one day neighbour george
walked into the house
and were caught
between in a flurry of bullets
to say sorry, we told him
he could be the next wayne
in our own movie
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter LVII: Used
There’s no word ‘used’ with loneliness
There’s no word ‘used’ with boredom
There’s no word ‘used’ with pain
There’s no word ‘used’ with rejection
There’s no word ‘used’ with ignorance
There’s no word ‘used’ with guilty
There’s no word ‘used’ with sacrifice
There’s no word ‘used’ with problem
There’s no word ‘used’ with slavery
There’s no word ‘used’ with piracy
There’s no word ‘used’ with power
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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